(Source: welikecracking)
(Source: ambahurd)
darlingmeadowes replied to your post
ahem… why is this benry that you speak of not in my email?
It was 4am and I was tireddd hahha but I’ll send it nao.
I gotta have your chocolate, like abracadabra || Mary Macbuttface
Dorcas practically flew over the table, pushing plates aside in her eagerness to reach her friend. She slid off the table, pushing people out of the way who had gotten out of their seats to see what had happened. Kneeling down beside her friend on the ground, Dorcas grabbed her hand, squeezing it lightly. “Mary, are you okay? Can you hear me? Oh god, Mary I’m so so sorry.” She searched her friend’s face for a sign that she was okay, but her face was frighteningly pale and her eyes unable to focus on anything. She felt awful as she heard the whimper leave Mary’s lips. And then she was mumbling incoherently about sticking her head in ice cream and how the hospital probably missed her. Dorcas tried to lightly shake her shoulder, realizing that poor Mary wasn’t even aware of what she was saying, or maybe that she was even speaking out loud.
She almost let out a small laugh when Mary grimly stated that she was “concussed”. It really wasn’t a laughing matter, but the fact that the girl, covered in carmel and chocolate and whipped cream, all of which was already drying in a horribly sticky mess in her hair and to her skin, was able to form a coherent if shockingly straightforward statement. “Mary can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?” She tried to get her attention, waving four fingers in front of her face, but it seemed Mary was far more interested in whatever lay past Dorcas’s shoulder. She heard somebody say behind her that they should probably go to the hospital wing. Despite it being true, the realization felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped down Dorcas’s back, or maybe that was just the air hitting her shirt which was still drenched with pumpkin juice.
“Mary, I know it hurts, but we’re going to try to get you to the hospital, okay?” She turned back to see Sirius looking over them with a concerned expression. Despite being pissed at the bloke, it seemed only fitting he should help, since the whole chocolate affair could be traced back to him. She nodded her head to him, signaling to come help her. Dorcas pulled Mary up from the ground so that she was sitting upright, then waited for Sirius to help pull her to her feet. She pulled Mary’s arm around her shoulder, making sure that Sirius was supporting her on her other side. Together they carried her out of the Great Hall, ignoring the looks of everybody watching them, Dorcas’s face flushed red out of embarrassment and guilt- surely everybody was certain she had pushed Mary on purpose. They slowly made their way through the corridors up to the hospital wing, Dorcas apologizing over and over, unsure whether or not Mary was even aware of what she way saying. Once they made it to there, Dorcas tried to push Sirius away, eager to make sure that she was the one to be with Mary if anything horrible had happened. It was, after all, her fault that Mary fell and hit her head in the first place.
The act of walking, or being supported as it were, to the Hospital Wing should have been a relatively easy experience. Her legs held no real weight as her friend’s were there to support her, and if she allowed her eyes to shut it could almost feel as if she were floating, which she knew to be untrue. She could tell, because people that floated never had such an intense pain radiating through their skull. How could they? Nothing could ever hurt that badly up in the sky, it was the coming down that hurt. She wasn’t sure if she said this aloud or merely thought it, but either way she was trying to do all she could to stay perfectly awake. “I’m not supposed to sleep,” Mary recited, sounded like a toddler with a deep fear for being scolded. “They say that you’re not supposed to sleep when you are with concussion, and I think I am with concussion. Also please do not walk so quickly because I just might—”
And there it was, the moment she stepped foot into the Infirmary Mary turned away from Dorcas and, with almost comically good aim, expelled her lunch into the rubbish bin that stood in a lucky position right next to the door. A cold sweat broke across her forehead, and moaning from the pain of the sudden movements she slumped against the wall, one hand wiping her mouth and the other clutching her head like she was trying to hold the very thing together. “I will never, ever as long as I live pour Pumpkin juice…” She seemed to become distracted mid-sentence, her words trailing off and leaving the unfinished promise to hand in the germ-free air around them. And what might have been meant to come out as “I will never again stand on a table and poke fun at you,” ended up coming out as: “No more tables.” She assumed Dorcas would catch her drift, but was too tired to care either way.
With impeccable timing, Madam Pomfrey rushed out into the main room of the infirmary and quickly took in the sight, her usual hurried movements not changing from the last time Mary had been admitted or visited a friend. She was saying something about being careful —or maybe it was that Mary should look more cheerful, she wasn’t quite sure which— and then she felt herself be guided to the nearest cot and forced to sit down, a stack of pillows propped behind her for comfort. A potion helped with the pain and the nausea, but the exhaustion wouldn’t seem to leave and with strict instruction not to sleep yet, Mary battled the appeal of a quick nap as Pomfrey shuffled away. “You can just tell her I’m resting my eyes,” she suggested, her lids growing too heavy to keep open. “Just five minutes, that’s all I want.” Five minutes, five hours. Five days even sounded pretty appealing. Pouting at Dorcas and her dripping hair, Mary forced her eyes back open, long enough to add, “Sorry ‘bout th’ pumpkin.”
What would you guys say if I accidentally transfigured the door to the 6th year girls dormitory into a solid wall?
It was mostly an accident…
Nothing, because I am concussed.
thejpotter replied to your post: thejpotter replied to your post: thejpotter…
Ha! I sooooo wasn’t thinking of that when I said it. :/But now you areee~~
Oh I already was. And this is why there are sex riots.
Oh man, sex riots make me miss summer when the first one broke out. That was a beautiful time.
thejpotter replied to your post: thejpotter replied to your post: thejpotter…
Ha! I sooooo wasn’t thinking of that when I said it. :/
But now you areee~~
thejpotter replied to your post: thejpotter replied to your post: thejpotter…
It matches his ego. :D
and other assorted parts of his anatomy
thejpotter replied to your post: thejpotter replied to your post: thejpotter…
For both of them. Sirius does it deliberately, James’ presence just does it for him.
He just has such a strong presence, it’s hard to look past it.
I gotta have your chocolate, like abracadabra || Mary Macbuttface
For half a second Mary’s words actually struck an intense fear throughout Dorcas’s mind and body. And had circumstances been different she might’ve heeded her warning and backed down. But truth be told, her mind was not functioning properly at all, half from the chocolate deprivation and all the frustration and anger that came with it, and half with the pure sugar high that came from finally indulging in the previously-deprived-sweet. So instead of sitting back down or apologizing or looking even remotely sorry, she crossed her arms in front of her and glared up at her tiny friend who seemed to be trying to use the bench as a way to gain some leverage over her, or at least add to the intimidation factor. “Not if I don’t kill you first, Mary. You brought this on yourself!” she shouted, ignoring every pair of eyes on her. “Maybe if you hadn’t sold me out to Sirius! You’re supposed to be on my side. You’re my mate, not Sirius’s, and best mates don’t-” but her words were silenced by a flood of pumpkin juice rushing down her face, drenching her hair, clothes and skin with the sickly sweet scent of pumpkin.
Dorcas let out a shriek that might’ve rivaled Mary’s from a few minutes prior. She stomped her foot hard on the stone ground, shaking her hands in front of her, trying to rid herself of the dripping pumpkin juice. She glared up at Mary, her mind racing and emotions threatening to overflow. And it wasn’t even that she was the upset about the two-person food fight the pair of them had started. No, it was the fact that her senses were clouded by pumpkin and she was so fucking sick of all things pumpkin. She let out another shout then screamed up at her friend, “I hate pumpkin!!” She watched her friend start laughing down at her, her temper flaring again and tears springing to her eyes. “Stop laughing at me! This isn’t funny. This is your fault!” And then suddenly she was shaking with laughter too, the tears still running down her face leaving trails in the drying pumpkin juice. The entire Great Hall watched the two mad Gryffindor girls go from shouting and flinging food to a giggling mess. Dorcas clutched at her side, where her abs were aching from the laughter. She tried to get words out, tried to apologize for perhaps overreacting a touch, but she couldn’t gather enough air to form words.
After another minute she had gained enough control over herself to grab the last remaining piece of chocolate cake from in front of Megan. She raised one hand in surrender before raising the other with the plate up to Mary. “Truce? We can share, and I promise not to throw this one at you.” But just as Mary’s hands touched the plate, Dorcas slipped in a puddle of melted chocolate ice cream at her feet. Her body went sliding forward, legs smacking into the table as her upper body flew forwards, shoving the plate into Mary, who began to teeter dangerously on the bench. “Mary!” Dorcas gasped as she watched her friend slowly fall backwards, her mouth and eyes going wide as she tried to grab Mary’s hand to steady her, but missing her by a fraction of an inch. Quickly Dorcas climbed over the table rushing to her friend’s side. “Oh Godric! Mary I’m so so sorry. That was an accident! I slipped, I swear! Oh god, are you okay?”
When they say that the moment before you’re about to die, or in Mary’s case be gravely injured, your life flashes before your eyes they aren’t completely lying, though as Mary lost her balance and missed Dorcas’s hand by nearly half of an inch, she would argue that what played before her eyes was neither a flash or her life. She felt her eyes grow wide, mouth frozen somewhere between a laugh and a gasp, and all at once she was floating slowly backwards with the vision on all of her mates’ equally shocked faces staring on at her falling form with clearly not enough reaction time to slow the process that must have looked terribly quick to them. She saw Dorcas with her dripping wet hair, something Mary would have felt bad about if she had the time to, and there was the mess of caramel and cream and chocolate that had aided in the overthrow of Mary from her perch. This was just as much her own fault, as Dorcas had pointed out rather loudly, and as she accepted the fact that it was her own blunders that had brought her to this position, the hard floor greeted her head first and then back as she slammed into it, the breath expelling from her lungs in a gasp of pain that quickly turned to a broken sob that was more impulsive than anything, because she wasn’t sure whether the pain in her skull was blinding or not there at all for a long moment.
And then, at once, and semblance of numb was washed away with the red pain that came with having one’s skull meet rather intimately and roughly with a stone floor. There might have been blood, she didn’t know and she didn’t want to, either way the pain was still very much skull splitting, and even a small whimper seemed to only worsen the pain, so she stayed as silent as possible, only muttering an “Ow” as way to communicate that perhaps something should be done about the situation she found herself in. Perhaps they could set her head in a bowl of ice cream to remedy the pain, or maybe she’d end up in the Hospital Wing that she’d done an excellent job of avoiding that year. It had to be missing her, she thought, and then realized that such nonsensical thinking was probably thanks in large part to a concussion or other minor brain trauma, and was promptly met by a wave of indicative nausea.
“I am concussed,” [shhh just let it happen] Mary mumbled through sticky lips, eyes looking up through heavy eyelids at her mates, wanting nothing more than to sleep until the pain stopped and she felt less exhausted. In fact, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to stand up and go to the Hospital Wing at all for all the effort it would take, and if it weren’t for the fact the the smell of the whipped cream in her hair was making her even more sick to her stomach, she would have loved nothing more than to lay there all day and stare up at the candles and sky of the Great Hall ceiling that seemed to spin irregularly above her, entrancing Mary like a child.